SUNDAY SERMON
WIDOWS AND RISKY GENEROSITY
Twenty Second Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 27, Year B
November 9, 2003
The Gospel: Mark 12:38-44
This is what I call a "squirmy gospel." This widow gave more to the collection than all the others put together. All the others gave what they'll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn't afford-she gave her all. [Peterson, The Message, Mk 12.44] Combine today's gospel with the widow's story in the OT and you get a one-two punch. That widow represented a foreigner from a pagan land who gave her last bit of food to the prophet of Israel, Elijah. Widows, whether in the time of Elijah or the time of Jesus, had absolutely no standing and no security in the ancient world. These two widows were gutsy women practicing risky generosity. How do you understand the word, generosity? What do these widows have to say to us?
Jesus does not demand that we drop our last two cents in the collection. This is not an "example story" where his message is "go and do likewise." Jesus does not condemn the gifts of the wealthy; he simply pronounces the widow's gift is larger and more generous than all theirs combined.
Jesus does the math and he does it differently. He bases his calculation not on what she gives but on what's left over. I tend to think I am generous because ever since seminary I have tithed; but the widow beckons me to look at how much I have left over. The widow teaches me the key question about stewardship is NOT how much should I give to God. The question is how much of all that God has given me should I keep for Blair?
I have a story-not about a widow but about a very Selfish Giant. The author is Oscar Wilde.
The Giant had a garden. Every afternoon, coming home from school the children would sneak into the garden to play. There was soft green grass, flowers like stars and twelve peach trees which every spring burst out in delicate pink blossoms. Birds sang so sweetly in the trees that the children would stop their games to listen. "How happy we are to be here," they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He'd been away to visit his friend the Ogre and had stayed with him seven years. He decided to return to his own castle and when he did, he caught the children playing in his garden.
"What do you think you're doing there?" he cried in a gruff voice. The children quickly ran away.
"My own garden is my own garden," said the Giant. "Anyone can understand that. I allow nobody to play in it but myself." So he built a high wall all around it and posted a sign, NO TRESPASSING. He was a very selfish giant.
The children now had nowhere to play. They used to wander around the outside of the wall after school and talk about the beautiful garden and remember how happy they were there.
Spring came and there were little blossoms and birds all over the countryside. But in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. "I cannot understand why spring is so late this year," said the Giant as he looked out his window on his cold white garden. But the spring never came, nor the summer.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed and he heard some lovely music. He thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. "I believe the spring has come at last," said the Giant as he jumped out of bed.
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. The trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms. It was a lovely scene…except in one corner it was still winter.
It was the farthest corner of the garden and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree; he was circling around it and crying bitterly. The poor tree was still covered in frost and snow. "Climb up! come up, little boy!" said the tree. But the boy was too small.
As he looked out the window the Giant's heart was melted. "How selfish I have been," he said; "now I know why spring would not come here." He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and went out into the garden. When the children saw him coming they were so frightened they all ran away. The little boy didn't run because his eyes were so full of tears he didn't see the Giant coming. The Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his giant hand and lifted him up into the tree. At once the tree broke into blossom and the birds into song. The little boy stretched out his arms, flung them around the Giant's neck and kissed him.
The other children came running back when they saw this. The Giant said, "this is your garden now," and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall.
Every afternoon the children came to play with the Giant. "Where is your little companion-the boy I put into the tree?" he asked. The Giant loved him best because he had kissed him. "We don't know," said the children; "he has gone away."
Years passed and the Giant grew very old and feeble. One winter morning he looked out his window and rubbed his eyes in wonder. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered in lovely pink blossoms and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
He ran downstairs in great joy, crossed the grass and came to the child. When he came quite close, his face grew red with anger and he said to the child, "You are hurt; who hath dared to wound thee? Tell me that I may take my sword and slay him." For on the palms of the child's hands were the marks of two nails and the marks of two nails were on the little feet.
"Nay," answered the child, "but these are the wounds of Love."
"Who art thou?" asked the Giant and a strange awe fell on him.
And the child smiled on the Giant and said to him, "You let me play once in your garden; today you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise."
The Selfish Giant had two very different responses to God's generosity. The first one was HOARDING. He built a wall around his beautiful garden. The result was eternal winter. Talk about having your assets frozen!
But the second response was GIVING, SHARING. It wasn't until the Giant's heart was melted that he could share… that he could recognize Jesus in the wounds of the child and accept the child's invitation to paradise. The Selfish Giant had a conversion experience; his heart was melted. [Remember the widow with the two copper coins and the widow with one meal left? Their hearts had been melted.]
Frankly I believe there are lots of selfish giants within all churches-not bad people, just people whose hearts have yet to be melted by the wounds of Jesus' love. It is one thing to meet the budget [and a good thing] but "risky generosity" happens when hearts have been melted like the Giant's or the widows'.
If your heart has been melted, I fully expect it will be reflected on this pledge card. If you have already filled one out, but your heart has been further melted, I expect you to fill out a new card showing risky generosity. [The treasurer will be glad to tear up your old one.]
If you've never made a pledge or were considering not making one this year for whatever reason, I pray your heart will be melted and that you will see this card as one way-with no strings attached-to act out your faith in this most generous God whom we worship-and who invites us into his garden, which is paradise.
Source of story: The Selfish Giant, Oscar Wilde.
Sermon preached Pentecost 22, November 9, 2003, at Church of the Holy Communion,
Memphis,
by the Rev. Blair Both.